


something to hold on to

by voidisa



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27200836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidisa/pseuds/voidisa
Summary: Vanitas loves to see Ventus cry. He loves it even more when he's the one that causes it. But when Ven starts showing an interest in intimacy, he thinks maybe annoying his other half isn't worth it. And are those...happy tears? How was that possible?
Relationships: Vanitas/Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 60





	something to hold on to

**Author's Note:**

> This is dumb, and I'm sorry.

One of Vanitas's favorite activities -- though favorite wasn't a good way to describe it because to have a favorite anything, you had to enjoy it, and Vanitas did not know how to enjoy things -- was popping in unexpectedly on Ven in the Land of Departure. Something about seeing the way that Ven floundered and startled at the sudden appearance made his blood rush, and this strange feeling -- not glee, not really -- always washed over him whenever he saw Ven's cheeks flush red and his pupils dilate and swallow his perfect blue irises into darkness. It thrilled him even more to see Ven draw his weapon and point it at him, directly at his heart, and he'd laugh like he'd just heard the funniest joke in the worlds. 

Jokes did nothing for him, though. Ven did everything. Ven stirred something inside of him that he desperately wanted to chase, and every time he left and wound up on his own again, he found himself craving that feeling, and he'd go back in search of it. He'd popped in so often on Ven that it hardly bothered him anymore. Even now, after years and years of chasing the high that Ven gave him, all Ven could offer when he showed up was a bored, "Hey, Vanitas" and continue on with his task as if nothing had occurred. 

It was infuriating. But Vanitas had done this to himself. He'd caused Ven to expect him, so he could not catch him off guard anymore. The feeling of -- not _glee_ , not _delight_ \-- something foreign still whispered inside of him though. Like an itch he couldn't quite reach. And Ven's eyes still lit up. His cheeks still flushed. Vanitas could not comprehend beauty, but he thought that if he could, seeing Ven like that would be the very definition of it. 

He had to show up where he was not welcome. He'd already tried the bedroom, and that had gotten them into a world of trouble that he tried not to think about, but it was all he could do not to think about it. It invaded his mind every second of every day. It made him...feel things. 

And that was new to him. He didn't really like it. Especially because it was _Ven_ , and he wished his entire existence didn't revolve around _Ven_. 

He knew what he could try next though, something that might literally scare the shit out of him. Something that might get them in loads more trouble than what they were already in. The bathroom. And he knew Ven's schedule well -- almost too well -- so he knew exactly when to pop in. 

He hoped it would scare him. He hoped that he would try to fight him. _God_ , he wanted to fight him. He wanted to feel Ven's hands around his throat, squeezing the life out of him with trembling fingers and tears rolling down his face.

He loved when Ven cried. He especially loved it if _he_ was the one to make him cry. Something about seeing him so weak and so vulnerable and so full of _darkness_ made Vanitas turn into a pile of goo. He wanted to touch that darkness, to taste it. 

Even more so, he wanted to taste his light. He'd tasted it before, and it was the sweetest thing he'd ever consumed, like all of the things that he had been missing out on in life. When it was gone, he ached for it, like a drug that had left his system.

Ven was like a drug to him. And he couldn't stand it. In darkness, in light, Ven was all he ever craved.

He had to see him. He had to _have_ him. 

When he popped into the bathroom and heard the water running, he knew he'd come to the right place. Ven would be preoccupied washing himself off, and -- oh, Vanitas didn't want to go there. If he thought about Ven, bare and dripping with warm water, he thought he might tear him apart instantly. He would have to, right? Ven had no right invading his thoughts like that, causing him to _feel_ things. Things he wasn't supposed to feel. 

Instead, however, he was the one caught off guard when he heard the crying. It wasn’t like a soft, muffled sort of crying. It was loud, reverberating off the walls _sobbing_. Sniveling, sniffling, puffy eyes, runny nose sort of crying. The kind of crying that so often found Vanitas in the late hours of the night and created so many Floods that they could terrorize an entire city. 

He looked around the room, taking in the rumpled clothing on the floor and the steam shrouding everything in a dreamy fog. The mirror was completely fogged over, except for a simple message that had been written into it: “Happy 21st birthday, Ven! - Terra.” Oh. Great. The big, dumb oaf had been in here just a few minutes ago. Good thing Vanitas missed that. 

And then it struck him: it was Ven’s twenty-first birthday. Which meant...was it his twenty-first birthday too? Was that how that worked? He’d never celebrated a birthday before. He’d never even had the urge to. The idea of it seemed stupid to him. 

But as far as he could tell about birthdays in all their stupid glory, they were supposed to be fun days. So why was Ven crying? 

And why hadn’t it been Vanitas that caused it? He was the one that was supposed to ruin everyone’s special days, not...whatever had happened to make Ven like this. 

His hands curled into fists, and the familiar burn of white-hot rage tore through his gut. No, maybe not rage. Maybe it was...jealousy? Though jealousy didn’t seem like the right word either. 

This was something new. Something...unpleasant. Something that left a sour taste in his mouth. 

But it also kind of stirred this wild desire inside of him, and suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to throw that shower curtain back and slam Ven against the wall and _destroy_ him in whatever way he possibly could. 

He loved to see Ven cry. Ven cried when they were fighting. Ven cried when they were fucking. Though, Vanitas couldn't tell if that was pain or pleasure that caused it, and the idea that it could be _pleasure_ was oddly more appealing than if it was pain. Something about Ven _wanting_ him and _craving_ him was too much for him to handle. He thought about how Ven's cheeks got all red and flushed, and his blue eyes brimmed with crystal tears that left streaks down his skin as Vanitas tore into him. He always had to keep his hand over Ven's mouth to make sure that he didn't outwardly sob, though the sound of it would have sent tingles racing down his spine. They couldn't wake Mother Aqua and Father Terra. 

Vanitas, frankly, did not care if they knew what their sweet little Ven got up to in the late hours of the night. It would just cause more tears. And he would love that. 

But that was an entirely different train of thought. What mattered now was that Ven was crying in the shower, there was no one else around, and Vanitas wanted those tears to be his. 

Or something. He still wasn't sure what this weird, squirming feeling in his gut was. 

He wanted to tease him. He wouldn't reveal himself at first. He wanted Ven to be startled, to try to summon his keyblade or do _something_ that would fuel the tension and adrenaline between them. So he reached out with all of the darkness he could muster, watching as little rope-like tendrils snaked their way across the floor toward the shower. He smirked to himself. He was nearly salivating. Though it wasn't nearly as good as touching Ven with his own fingers, using darkness always gave him shivers that clung right on the edge of pleasure. 

But Vanitas had never given himself the luxury of feeling pleasure. He was darkness, after all.

The tendrils curled into the shower, slowly grazing over Ven's arms and chest, and then they started to make their way up his throat. Vanitas heard the crying stop, followed by a very deep, frustrated sigh. It made him quiver with anticipation as the darkness pushed against his lips, finally finding its way into his mouth and pressing on his tongue. It was _almost_ like kissing him, and it was sweet like candy and nearly knocked Vanitas off his feet. 

He managed to catch himself on the sink and stifle the groan swelling inside him. And then suddenly, the darkness was retreating back to him. As if it had been pushed away. The shower curtain was drawn back, and Ven poked his head around it, his expression blank. His blonde hair looked darker when it was wet. Almost brown. His eyes were rimmed red. And he didn't even seem the least bit bothered that Vanitas was here. He simply smiled weakly, like it was taking all the strength he could muster, and said, "Hey, Vanitas." 

Vanitas frowned. And now the feeling inside of him definitely _was_ rage. He didn't want Ven to smile at him! 

Though, if he really thought about it, he might admit that Ven was _kind of_ cute when he smiled. 

"What do you mean, 'Hey, Vanitas'?" Vanitas hissed. "What the hell is that? I pop into the bathroom while you're stark fucking naked and _crying_ , and all I get is 'Hey, Vanitas'?" He scoffed, and it made his skin crawl when he saw that Ven was smiling even wider now, though the joy didn't reach his eyes. Against his better judgment, he pressed on. "And why are you even crying anyway? How dare you fucking cry when it's not me causing you pain." He clenched his teeth and his fists, halfway expecting Ven to be the first to draw his weapon and attack. 

But Ven had the audacity to _laugh_. There wasn't much humor behind it, but the joyful sound of it made Vanitas grind his teeth. He felt like his blood was boiling hot. He wanted to choke him. 

"Part of the reason is you, if that makes you feel any better," Ven said, wiping at his snotty nose. There was water dripping all over the floor, and there was a thick smell of coconuts and mangoes in the air that was so violently Ven scented that it made Vanitas sick.

Vanitas shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. "It helps a little, yeah." But he'd just gotten here. He hadn't even done anything yet. What could have possibly happened to make Ven cry like that? 

And why was Vanitas almost...sad?

He shouldn't have asked, because he really didn't care, but he found the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. "What's wrong?" 

Ven sighed, shaking his head. His pupils were all big again. He looked at Vanitas like that a lot. It was kind of disgusting. "You've never asked me that before."

"You're right. And I shouldn't have done it today. Because I don't care." 

There was a pause. Vanitas's gaze drifted back to the mirror where Terra's stupid birthday message was scrawled. He wondered if he should say something, then decided against it. That would be borderline nice, and he couldn't afford anymore nice tonight. Ven might get the idea that he actually enjoyed being here. 

He did not. 

“You wanna join me?” Ven asked, pulling the curtain back a little more. Vanitas could see his chest now. He had a bruise right above his left nipple, and Vanitas wasn’t sure if he was the one that had put it there or not. It’d been a few days since he’d seen him. 

He had _missed_ him. 

“I don’t have a lot of time. And the water’s gonna be cold soon,” Ven continued. “Plus, Aqua and Terra are gonna be looking for me. But I could use the company.” 

Vanitas bit down on his bottom lip. His skin suddenly felt like it was on fire. He wanted to attribute it to the steam continuing to flood the room, but he knew that it was Ven. It was always, always Ven. He was looking up at him with this soft, tender expression on his face, his long eyelashes framing his blue eyes in an elegant way and his lips curled up into a slight smile. He was basically begging for Vanitas’s presence. 

Which shouldn’t have been the case. He wasn’t supposed to _want_ Vanitas to be here right now. 

And Vanitas shouldn’t want to be here either. Not now, not since Ven was showing no sign of any tears. 

But he did want to be here. And that made him angry. 

“You want me to get in the shower with you?” Vanitas asked, and he realized too late that his voice had risen to an insanely high volume, almost a shriek. He cleared his throat. He was better than this. “What, so you can grope my dick, you little pervert?” 

Ven rolled his eyes, undeterred by the comment. “Would you mind it if I did?” 

Vanitas would have preferred being smacked in the throat with a keyblade, because _of course_ he wouldn’t mind it, but he couldn’t just _say_ that. He would never. So he stayed silent, hoping that his expression conveyed just how _irritating_ Ven was and not how he was making Vanitas _feel_ things he didn’t want to feel. Things he didn’t know how to feel. 

"If I get in that shower with you, we're not talking about feelings or whatever the fuck else you're thinking about because I. Don't. Care." Vanitas kicked off his boots and started to pull off the black tshirt that he was wearing, then realized that Ven was staring at him. Staring at him hard. His eyes were practically black from dilated pupils, and his mouth hung slightly agape like he was staring at -- something beautiful. Like sunsets or stars or whatever. Vanitas turned his head away, refusing to meet Ven's gaze as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. His cheeks felt warm, and he could not -- _would not_ \-- believe that he was blushing. Vanitas didn't blush. 

"What the fuck are you staring at?" he snapped, because even with his head turned, he could still feel Ven's gaze on him, and it made him itchy and strangely self-conscious. "You've seen me naked before. What's the deal?" 

"Yeah, but not like this," Ven said, running his finger along the side of the tub, collecting water. He had his lower lip poked out just enough to make him appear innocent, and -- gods help him -- Vanitas wanted to bite into it until he bled and kiss him until his lips were puffy and swollen. It enraged him when thoughts like that entered his mind. "I didn't think we would ever take a shower together. It's...intimate." 

_Intimate_. Vanitas's shoulders tensed at the sound of the word, and he paused pulling off his underwear to process it all. They weren't supposed to be _intimate_. They were supposed to be intense. They were supposed to be at each other's throats. They were supposed to be a constant blur of right and wrong and light and darkness, orbiting one another but never quite touching. 

And now Ven had gone and shattered that illusion. Vanitas wanted to be close to him but not _close_. 

He had to provoke a fight. Some way, somehow, he had to make Ven hate him again. He needed the _fight_. But he realized that his lips were trembling and his mind had stopped working suddenly, and the best insult that he could muster was, "You're pathetic," and that stopped bothering Ven a long time ago. 

"I know. Come on, before there's no hot water left." 

Despite himself, Vanitas was naked, and his feet were carrying him toward the warmth of the shower and the comfort of Ven's light. 

"You're not crying anymore," he said, pushing the curtain back and stepping inside, where Ven was still seated on the ground looking up at him. The tropical scents of his shampoo assaulted Vanitas's nose. But it was a good smell, he thought. 

"Yeah. I was just feeling kind of sad before you got here. Not entirely because of you, but…" He shrugged, the pitiful pout returning to his face. 

Vanitas studied him for a moment. He was sitting cross-legged and bare, semi-hard with his hands resting on his toned thighs. Thick rivulets of water crashed over his face, dripping from his flattened hair that was plastered to his skin. He just looked so... _vulnerable_. Vanitas loved looking at him. Even seeing him naked so many times, after seeing him all the way down to his heart, he was still amazed, in a weird way. And fascinated.

He wondered if shower sex was out of the question. It could be an interesting experience. Ven didn't seem too fond of the idea, though. Clearly he had other plans. 

"I like to see you cry," Vanitas said, smirking a little at him. "It reminds me that you didn't swallow up _all_ the light for yourself. There's still some darkness in there."

He said mean stuff like that all the time; Ven was used to it. He only shrugged again, pushing strands of wet hair out of his eyes. "Yeah, I guess there is. Which means there's a little light in you too." 

Vanitas rolled his eyes. "The only time there's any light in me is when I let you top." 

"You don't let me top. You like being topped. You just won't admit it." 

Vanitas's jaw dropped, momentarily shocked by the sheer _audacity_ of the comment, and then his hand curled into a fist, and he felt rage creep through his veins. He could snap Ven's neck right now, and who would even know he'd been here? 

He shook his head. The rage melted away as he looked at Ven, his mouth curling into a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with devilish delight. 

And he _liked_ it. Ven was _likeable_ when he fought back, when he didn't just let Vanitas stomp him into the ground. 

"Are we fucking, or did you just call me in here to make fun of me?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level. 

Ven shook his head. "I'm not making fun of you." He bit down on his lower lip, smiling, and patted the cool porcelain across from him. "Sit down."

"You're wasting my time." 

"You really only pop in to rile me up and then fuck me?" Ven tilted his head to the side, and he looked like a soft, innocent little puppy who had an accident and was waiting to be scolded. 

A puppy that Vanitas would like to kick. 

But it was also sort of...endearing? And...ugh, he hated himself for even thinking it. _Cute_.

"What else is there?" he asked incredulously, and Ven's expression fell. He couldn't tell if that bothered him or not. But really, what else was there? All he craved in life was to be reunited with Ven, to bask in the warmth of his light and never have to lie in the cold darkness again, and the closest they could ever get to being united was _this_. They were one body, one soul. They cuddled until Vanitas grew disgusted with himself, and then he left. And he craved and hungered and longed and desired until it physically pained him to be outside of Ven's life. Then he came back for more. 

"Sit down," Ven said through gritted teeth, and there was so much authority in his voice that Vanitas had no choice but to obey. 

There was plenty of room in the shower. Vanitas tried to be careful as he lowered himself down to the bottom of the tub. Not for Ven's sake, but because he didn't want to get his hair wet and cause the spikes to fall out. He was sure that would only lead to more embarrassment and jokes that he didn't want to deal with. Plus, surprisingly, the water was still hot, and it burned against his skin. He was always so cold, and now, the water was leaving his skin rosy pink and tender. 

Ven smiled at him again, and he rolled his eyes. Always the smile. Always so happy. Even through all the tears. It made him sick.

And jealous. 

"So. Twenty-one," Vanitas said, before his instincts took over and he tried to snap Ven in two. 

"Yeah. Twenty-one."

"What does that mean?" 

Ven sighed, and he leaned forward and touched Vanitas's collarbone, tracing the outline of it. The way they were positioned, Vanitas's legs were sprawled out on either side of Ven, closing him in, and Ven could so easily dip down and take him into his mouth if he so pleased. The thought made Vanitas tense with anticipation. 

But Ven only continued to run his fingers across Vanitas's bare skin, leaving a trail of heat and goosebumps in his wake. He stopped at the base of Vanitas's throat, and slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet hard, amber eyes staring back at him. He poked his tongue out between his teeth, grinning, and Vanitas actually _trembled_. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. It would have been so much easier, so much less painful, if Ven would have just knocked him onto his back on the ground and cracked his ribs. 

Because he could understand pain. But this -- whatever _this_ was -- was completely foreign. And it was terrifying.

"It means that Aqua and Terra are getting on with their lives, and they're trying to pretend that it's okay for me to third wheel all the time, but it gets really exhausting because I feel like I'm supposed to be doing something else. You know? Something for me." 

Vanitas shrugged, swallowing down a lump in his throat. He couldn't relate to any of that because he didn't have friends. It was only him, living in the shadows of whatever decrepit world he could find and constantly trying to seek out light. 

"So you're leaving this damn place?" Vanitas asked, and something soared inside of him at the idea. Something oddly pleasant. Something like...well, he wouldn't say hope. He never _hoped_ for anything. 

"Maybe not. Not forever, anyway. I might just venture out of my comfort zone. Travel through some of the worlds, make my own experiences. That sounds good, right?" 

"Are you burning down buildings and causing general chaos?" 

Ven snorted, shaking his head. His fingers glided across Vanitas's chest, grazing over his nipple just a little, and Vanitas twitched. His hand came up of its own accord, circling around Ven's wrist and jerking him back. 

Ven didn't even squirm. "I was thinking more like trying new foods, meeting new people." 

"Sounds awful." 

Ven laughed, and slowly, he slid his hand up into Vanitas's, their fingers intertwining. Vanitas's heart -- or whatever dark, twisted thing lay caged in his chest -- fluttered almost painfully, and he let out a gasp. It was like...burning. Just a simple burn. Like someone had put out a cigarette on him, and then it was gone. 

Ven had never held his hand before, and he didn't want it to start now. 

But it felt kind of nice. Like they were together now, not desperately chasing each other and never really meeting. 

"Or I could move in with you, I guess. You have a place, right?" 

"My place is in the shadows." 

Ven rolled his eyes. "Shut up." His fingers dipped lower, skirting over Vanitas's abdomen, and Vanitas sucked in a shaky breath, waiting. Hoping. He wanted Ven to touch him. He _needed_ it. 

Instead, Ven's fingers left him, and he propped himself up on his knees and leaned forward, now resting both of his hands on Vanitas's thighs. His nails dug into sensitive skin there, not harshly, but enough to render Vanitas breathless as he stared into the blue eyes just inches away from him. Ven had a couple of tiny white scars just above his lips, he noticed, and there was a collection of little freckles splashed across his nose from the sun. His lips were full, wet, and they were hovering just above Vanitas's, so tantalizingly close…

Vanitas leaned forward to close the gap between them, but Ven turned his head away, angling his body away from Vanitas and plopping down in front of him. He now sat with his back pressed against Vanitas's chest and his head resting against his shoulder, and he took Vanitas's hands in his own and curled them around his waist. 

Vanitas did not know what to do. He felt like he was made of jelly, like all of the bones inside his body had just disappeared. He was _holding_ Ven. In the shower. _Cuddling_ with him just like he did right after they'd fucked. But this was different. This was…

"What the fuck are you doing?" 

Ven turned his head slightly, blinking up innocently at Vanitas. "I just thought it would be nice to sit like this. Is it not?" 

"No! It's not! It's --" He pushed Ven away from him, trying to scramble to his feet, to get out of here, put distance between them, but the porcelain was slick, and he fell back down, his foot slamming into Ven's hip. What was this? Panic. He knew this feeling. He knew it well. It haunted him in his darkest moments, tore through him and possessed him like a demon plaguing his soul. But it was a different kind of panic. A bad panic. Worse than anything he'd ever experienced. 

Because he was _feeling_ things he wasn't supposed to be feeling. 

"Vanitas!" Ven shouted, his voice so loud over the running water that it was impossible for someone not to hear them. 

Vanitas's eyes focused on Ven's face, trying to find some sort of ground as he struggled to breathe, but Ven was the one _causing_ this, so how was he supposed to make everything okay? 

"Vanitas."

And then he saw it. A Flood. Sprouting from the shower drain like some great monster, slow and wiggly like gelatin. He cursed under his breath and lunged for the little beast at the same time as Ven, and they ended up running into one another with a loud, wet smack that sounded like it could have cracked the tub in half. 

Vanitas's arms wrapped around the Flood, and he squeezed it tightly, evaporating it into nothing as another sprouted up. 

"What are you doing?" Ven hissed through gritted teeth as he grabbed the little monster and held it close to his chest. It let out an ungodly scream and began tearing at his skin, and Ven howled, glaring at Vanitas as he took it from him and finally killed the monster. 

The water was getting cold. Vanitas slunk back against the tub, breathing heavily, though he was calm for the moment, and he watched as blood dripped from Ven's arms and swirled in a sort of entrancing pink puddle as it made its way down the drain. Ven stared at him, eyes wide, like he was accusing him of something, but Vanitas had really and truly not been trying to start a fight this time. He didn't understand. Usually he had so much more control over whether the Floods appeared, but he felt like he was losing his grip. Coming unhinged. 

"What?" he growled. 

"Nothing," Ven replied, letting out a breath. "I just don't understand what's wrong." 

" _You're_ the problem. It's always you. I'm getting out of here." He finally managed to get to his feet, rage pulsing through him as he threw back the curtain and stepped, soaking wet, onto the rug. 

As he made his way over to his clothes, someone knocked on the door, and he froze. "Ven?" He rolled his eyes. Of course. It was the big, dumb giant. He couldn't seem to stay away from Ven for a second. "Everything okay?"

Ven was silent for a moment, then said, "Yeah, I'm fine! Just fell. I'll be out in a few minutes." 

"Okay. Hurry up! You take the longest showers. Aqua and I have a lot planned for you tonight." 

The water turned off, and the room fell deathly silent. Vanitas was afraid that if he breathed too heavily, someone might hear him, and then-- 

Who cares? He realized there really wasn't anything to be afraid of. So Terra walked in and saw him standing here naked with Ven. What was the worst that could happen? In fact, he would be _thrilled_ if Terra or Aqua walked in right now instead of giving their precious little boy some privacy. At least then, they would know that he wasn’t so precious after all. Sweet, perfect, innocent little Ven liked to get into trouble when no one was looking. 

“You can use a towel, you know,” Ven said from behind him as he pulled on his pants. They were hard to get up, but he refused to stop, refused to act like a _reasonable_ person even though he knew he would probably be more comfortable if he was dry. He ignored him, finally managing to get his pants on and then moving on to the shirt. 

Damn it. He’d gotten his hair wet. If he wasn’t so damn freaked out right now, he would kill Ven where he stood. 

“Can you at least tell me what I did to make you upset?” Ven asked, and his voice was so gentle that it set Vanitas’s nerves on edge, and he ground his teeth together so hard that they started to ache. He couldn’t deal with him. Not now. Not ever. He wanted to run as far as he possibly could, get as far away from Ven as the worlds would allow. 

“No! Just leave me the hell alone, okay?” 

“Vanitas!” 

“What?” 

“I’m sorry, I just --” 

“Shut up.” His hands were shaking as he pulled on his boots, and he couldn’t understand what was happening to him, why he was letting Ven get to him like this. Any other time, he would be fine with giving him hell, but he wanted to get away. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t even look Ven in the eye, without feeling as if he was unraveling. Nothing made sense to him right now. It was like Ven had somehow taken everything that Vanitas _thought_ he knew about himself and flipped it upside down. 

Because Ven made him feel things. He made him feel this weird, tingly, bubbly feeling in his chest that heated him up to the temperature of a comfortable summer day. And it felt like it was suffocating him. 

He didn’t even bother lacing up his boots before opening up a dark corridor in the middle of the bathroom. With heart thundering, he rushed toward it, only to be jerked backward with unusually brute force and slammed against the sink. His chest rose and fell rapidly with each stuttered breath, and he tried to work his arms free of Ven’s grip, but he found that all of his strength and resolve had left him completely at his other half’s mercy. 

And at that moment, with Ven’s beautiful ocean eyes gazing at him, he was okay with losing the fight. 

“Why won’t you stay with me?” Ven asked, his voice light as air. And broken. So, so broken. 

Vanitas shifted underneath Ven’s weight, and his eyes roamed over his body, taking in every last dip and curve, every bump and bruise, every delicate little detail. His hair was longer, shaggier with the weight of the water, and his skin looked much tanner in the bright light over the sink mirror. Water ran down his face, and his lips pressed together into a little pout that made Vanitas want to kiss him desperately and never stop. 

Earlier, he’d thought that he never could really comprehend beauty, but he could say with certainty now that the Ventus standing before him right now with bright eyes and a towel wrapped around his waist was the exact image that made him understand. It was better than any sunsets or sunrises, the moon or the stars, the ocean or the sky. Ventus was very obviously the most stunningly beautiful thing in existence. All of nature envied him. 

“You know why,” Vanitas said, and he felt Ven’s hand travel up his arm and stop just above his elbow. His grip was lighter now, not as demanding. 

“I don’t. You’ll have to enlighten me.” 

Vanitas looked away from him. He could feel the heat returning to his cheeks, and he mentally cursed himself at how stupid and _desperate_ Ven made him feel. He should have kept his mouth shut, refusing to give Ven anymore power over him, but he felt the need to tell him. To make him understand. 

If only he could understand himself. 

“I can’t,” he started to say, then shook his head. Feelings didn’t sit well with him. They still tasted bitter and toxic to him, and they left him with the overwhelming feeling like he was going to vomit all over the bathroom floor. But when Ventus touched his chin ever so gently and tilted his head so their eyes met again, he felt his legs go weak, and he had no excuses to hide himself anymore. 

“I live to torture myself,” he explained. “I’m supposed to feel pain and grief and desires that I can never fulfill, and I’m supposed to tear myself apart until I can’t stand it anymore. It’s an endless cycle. You’re the only reprieve I have.” 

Ven raised an eyebrow, his hands drifting down to rest on Vanitas’s waist. “Who made those rules?” 

“My very existence. That’s just how it is, Ventus. You wouldn’t understand because you got the good side of the deal.” 

“What deal? What are you even talking about?” 

“I can’t be with you like this because it’s turning me into something I’m not!” Vanitas realized that his voice had gotten louder, bouncing off the hollow walls of the bathroom and echoing ominously in the silence that followed. He half expected the door to slam open and Terra to come stomping in with all of his big, dumb, muscular hero superiority, but they were still alone. 

And he realized with horror that now his eyes were leaking. There was water forming at the edges of them and spilling over, searing hot against his skin. It wasn’t the first time he’d cried because he was _darkness_ he was supposed to cry and feel anguish, but it was the first time that he had cried in front of Ven. 

Ven wasn’t supposed to see him cry. It made him weak. It made him so much easier to defeat. Ven could tear him down with no problems now, and he had to put a stop to it before he lost another battle. 

But before he could even do anything, Ven had his face cradled in his hands, swiping the tears away with his thumbs and whispering sweet, soft affirmations to him that he didn’t deserve, and he _loathed_ him with every ounce of his existence for being so _good_ and so _pure_. Why couldn’t he relish in Vanitas’s pain the way that Vanitas so often thrived in his? 

“It’s okay,” Ven said, his warm breath tickling against the burning skin of Vanitas’s face, and he pressed the lightest kiss against Vanitas’s lips, dragging him down into an ocean of bliss that he’d never known existed. “You don’t have to talk about it right now. I don’t want you to be upset.” 

“Why?” Vanitas demanded. “Why do you not want me to suffer for all that I’ve done to you? Why are you _like this_?” 

Ven drew closer to him, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his head against Vanitas’s chest. His heart beat erratically, and he knew that Ven could probably hear it, could probably feel it thrumming underneath his skin, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it because that was just the way Ven made him feel. 

Too close. This was too close. Their bodies had been intertwined in all sorts of ways, but this wasn’t one of them. They were not meant to be like this. Were they? 

No. This felt right. And for the first time in a long time, Vanitas felt like he could breathe a sigh of relief. 

“You said that you thought there was a little bit of darkness in me, and I think that’s true,” Ven said, closing his eyes and taking in a breath. “But there’s a little bit of light in you too. I know it.” 

Vanitas forced himself to breathe, and slowly, slowly, he raised his arms up and curled them around Ven’s smaller body, pressing him closer to him. He smelled wonderful, and it was a scent that Vanitas could probably drown in. And die. He would be okay dying like this, burying his face in Ven’s hair and feeling the warmth of his body against the cool, wet surface of his own. He let his fingers drift over Ven’s back, tracing over each dip and each curve of Ven’s spine, and Ven sighed in contentment and nestled closer to him, the sweetest sound that he’d ever heard. 

He was leaving little trails of darkness in his wake, he realized, and the thought occurred to him that he was corrupting Ven. And Ven was kind of corrupting him too, which was beautiful. 

He understood beautiful fully now. 

“You should stay and come to dinner with us,” Ven said. “It’ll be fun.” 

Vanitas scoffed, wiping the leftover tears from his face. “That’s a little bit too cozy for me. Plus, I really hate your friends.” 

Ven laughed, shaking his head, and his eyes flitted over Vanitas’s face like he was trying to pull some sort of divine truth from him. Then his expression grew more serious, and the hair on the back of Vanitas’s neck stood up. He was going to say something. Something that could shatter everything they had worked toward. 

“I was crying earlier over you too,” he said. “Because we’ve been running in circles for years, and I haven’t been seeing anyone else, and...I just keep hoping that maybe we can put some sort of definition to it. Because...I love you.” 

Vanitas’s fingers curled on the counter, gripping the porcelain so tightly that his knuckles turned white. It was all he could do to keep himself from shaking, to stay standing on legs that felt like noodles. He _loved_ him? _Loved_? The word bounced around in his mind until it didn’t even sound like a word anymore. He didn’t know what _love_ was. Something that he was never, ever supposed to experience. Xehanort had made sure of that when he’d forced him into isolation. And he had dealt with it. He had even accepted it. This was _not_ okay. 

But being with someone for this long and needing them this desperately was not grounded in hate. It was something else. It had to be something else. Because looking at Ven right now with his lips all pouted and his eyes wide and his hair swept so gorgeously over his forehead, he felt this swelling in his chest and this tingling sensation that went all the way from his head to his toes. It was like fireworks were exploding in his veins and electricity was sparking across his skin. And that couldn’t be hate. He knew what hate felt like, and this wasn’t it. 

This made him sick and dizzy and confused and afraid. 

And he _adored_ it. It was like getting high. 

“I…” He bit down on his lip, nearly bringing blood to the surface. He couldn’t do this. Not now. It wasn’t right. He couldn’t _love_. 

But he was moving toward Ven despite himself, and he pressed his lips against Ven’s greedily, desperately needing his taste, his closeness. Yes, this felt right. He and Ven were one being, one heart. Two halves of the same whole. He _needed_ him. Bad. And he didn’t ever plan on leaving his side again. 

“I think I love you too,” he said, and Ven pulled away from him, giggling as he pressed a few kisses along his jawline and his neck. Vanitas groaned, holding him close, and he realized that he was crying again. 

This was not crying out of sadness. For the first time ever, his heart soared. 

And Ven was crying too. Beautiful, sweet, perfect tears as he smiled and kissed Vanitas over and over again. They felt warm against Vanitas’s cheeks. He loved it. More so than any other time he’d made Ven cry. This was the best crying of all. He would come find him for the rest of his days, and from now on, he hoped these were the tears that he caused.


End file.
